The Red Book
by TolkienScribe
Summary: A 100 Prompt Challenge, taken as excerpts from the pages of the Red Book. Prompt challenge accepted from NirCele. Please Read and Review. :)
1. Fire

**The Red Book**

 **Summary:** The Red Book contained Bilbo and Frodo's narrations, and over the years, tales, genealogies and traditions were added. Some of them are mentioned here.

 **Disclaimer:** Do not own.

Enjoy!

* * *

 **001\. Fire**

 **The Storyteller**

The man sitting in the corner of a street between two houses wore shabby clothes and sat on a rough, worn out rug. Fire crackled in a metal pot to keep him warm. He was clean and tidy for someone who seemed to live on the streets and made meagre living of a storyteller. No one knew where he went after he told stories to the children. His cloak was always wrapped tightly across his body and his cowl hid most of his face. He appeared once every week or every two weeks, and the children always gathered eagerly. He had a deep voice that was pleasant to the ears, and his hand gestures added to the magic of his voice. Even the parents lingered to hear his stories. He told them tales full of adventures of the Rangers of the North. He narrated the doings of the Lady of Lothlórien. He narrated how their King met their Queen. He had a way with words, raising his voice and changing it for dialogue and lowering it to a whisper to add mystery. Most of all, it was his eyes that were unnerving to look at. They were bright grey, the only feature other than his lips that were visible in the firelight.

He began to shift from his usual place and went from street to street. He remained in the lowermost circle of Minas Tirith, in the slums. Some tried to warn him not to antagonize the gangs but the storyteller only tilted his head and smiled grimly.

Time passed on, and he became increasingly popular. Everyone waited eagerly for the next time he appeared. He came and left without warning, and nobody knew where he lived. Slowly the slums became better. The streets were paved. The buildings were rebuilt with better stone. The orphans were brought to orphanages. The guards came and captured thugs. The widows were given money from the king. The storyteller disappeared. They waited days, weeks and then finally after two months, they found him sitting in a corner. All of them gathered eagerly to hear his story, but the storyteller only removed his cowl. They stared in wonder at the crown resting upon Aragorn's head. The King smiled and leaned back.

"Now, what tale do you wish to hear from me tonight?"

* * *

 **Author's Note:**

-I blame good ol' Pip and nyx thranduilion for this. :D I read their wonderful prompt challenges and I could not help but join in the fun! If you are interested, go over to NirCele's account and take part with us. :)


	2. Pets

**002\. Pets**

 **The Elven-King**

Legolas made sure his father opened the ornate wooden box in privacy rather in the dining hall, where Aragorn's son Eldarion watched the king with doe-like eyes.

"That child was hoping I opened his gift in front of him." Thranduil said. He held the box in his hands, admiring the detail of pressed gold leaves on the lid.

"Really?" Legolas managed to conjure a strong voice, successfully keeping the tremor of mirth hidden. Thranduil paid him no attention.

The Elven-King raised the lid and with a soft exclamation of a curse sprang back from the box. It fell with a loud thud on the table and a black creature with numerous legs crawled out. It was as large as a hand and the body was as thick as an enclosed fist. Legolas guffawed.

"What in the blazes was he thinking?"

"Eldarion likes spiders. He tends to keep them as pets."

"Pets!"

The spider crawled up into Legolas' ready palm. He raised himself from his chair and advanced his father.

"Legolas-"

"It is quite harmless."

"Cease your foolishness immediately."

"Eldarion has one that is named Sauron."

Thranduil backed away, his eyes trained at the spider sitting on Legolas' palm with loathing.

"You know I am not fond of spiders."

"Not fond of or frightened?"

"Your impudence will be your undoing, mark my words, boy-"

"Just hold it in your hand!"

"You are enjoying this far too much!"

"Obviously!"

Knowing his son would not cease, Thranduil tried a different tactic.

"I have many tales of your childhood, my son. I am sure your friends will be eager to hear how you were frightened of thunder and lightning. Still are, at times."

"I will tell them myself."

The situation was so absurd that even Thranduil was fighting back a smile.

"Legolas-"

"It is just a spider. Ironic, considering you can bring one of the spiders in Greenwood in a grim death."

"There is large difference."

Legolas feinted, pretending to throw it at his father. The result was amusing, with the king instinctively scrambling sideways.

There was a knock on the door and Legolas hastily hid the hand holding the poor creature behind his back. A servant entered after Legolas' consent, cleared the tray and left. Thranduil and Legolas stood silently and as regally as they could manage.

Legolas felt something in his sleeve and gave a yelp.

"It's in my shirt!"

Thranduil laughed darkly and leaned against a chair, calmly watching his son dance about.

* * *

 **Author's Note:**

Don't forget to leave a review!


	3. Transportation

**003\. Transportation**

 **The Healer**

Not many dared to challenge Elrond when he took on his healer duties, but there were few wounded and injured stubborn enough, and (unfortunately) well enough to challenge him. Among them was none other than Lord Glorfindel himself. The Elf had many virtues worthy of song, but Elrond knew that he never stayed in bed while wounded.

So, it did not come as a surprise when he found him working in his study. He was too weak to move from his chair, tore two of his stitches (and insisted he didn't), and protested when Elrond grabbed him by the elbow and dragged him out of the study.

And so, Glorfindel was transported back to the healing ward and dropped unceremoniously on a bed.

"For a healer, you are certainly not gentle." Glorfindel remarked. His voice was laced with pain.

"For a wise Elf, you are certainly a fool." Elrond curtly replied. The room was brightly lit, now that nightfall fell.

"You are sometimes not liked, Elrond."

"I am a healer. I am not meant to be liked."

Erestor watched from a safe distance by the door where he can flee if needed. Elrond's gait was purposeful as he prepared Glorfindel's next medicine. Glorfindel had the sense to stay silent. Erestor kept his eyes on Elrond who slowly smiled. Erestor walked up to him. He stared at Elrond's odd smile and then down at the concoction in his hand.

"What is that?" He gave a wary whisper.

"It is something to cause Glorfindel grief," Elrond said. "Do not worry; it is harmless."

"What will it do?"

"Fetch Glorfindel the chamber pot. He will need it. And bring a full pitcher of water. He will be very thirsty through the night."

* * *

 **Author's Note:**

Don't forget to leave a review!

 **Anon:**

Just a Reviewer: Thank you so much. I am so glad you are enjoying it as much as I am. XD


	4. Plants

**Author's Note:**

This is a **double update**. You may have missed the previous one.

* * *

 **004\. Plants**

 **The Farmer**

Fields of ripe crops met his eyes. His heart swelled in unbidden joy. During the war, these fields lay barren but not the crops were tinged golden from the bright sunlight.

"Hail Éomer King!" The farmers shouted at the sight of him. He hailed them in returned. The farmers walked into the field in the form of a straight line. Éomer removed his cloak and stepped forward. A sickle was thrust into his hands and he joined the hard work.

By the end of it, the warehouses swelled with the success of harvest. And there was a whisper of a new name on everyone's lips.

Éomer Éadig.

* * *

 **Author's Note:**

Don't forget to leave a review!


	5. Threats

**005\. Threats**

 **The Princess**

Her midnight blue mantle whipped around her in the harsh wind. The pattern of stars caught the moonlight and shimmered in white brilliance. She gathered the mantle close about her to ward off the cold and hide the nightshift underneath. Her eyes did not waver from the East.

The land of Mordor was distant, covered with mountains and black soil but the longer she looked, the closer it seemed to appear. It loomed before her, a dark veiled threat over her and her family. It felt her sleep with nightmares and each time she looked upon it, she hardly suppressed a shudder.

"Finduilas? Beloved, what are you doing out here in the cold and in the middle of the night?"

Her husband's arms enveloped her in a safe and warm embrace, and yet her eyes did not shift away from the distant land.

"No matter how far it is, it seems to come closer as each day passes," she said in a breathy, fearful whisper. Denethor listened quietly, his arms tightening in comfort. "I fear the day when its foul creatures reach our very doorstep."

There was silence and this time when Denethor spoke, his voice was low.

"Come inside, my dear. Ill-begotten thoughts are not for a night as beautiful as this." With an assuring hand, he led her inside.

Before she entered the safety of the hall, she dared one last glance towards Mordor. She saw many things in her dreams, from two grown men very much alike in looks to a White Tree in bloom with a crowned man sitting below it. But before it all comes to pass, she knew this land would bring destruction to everything it touched.

And she, like a blooming flower, withered before it.

* * *

 **Author's Note :**

I will not be able to update this story until November. Just a quick note for those who don't have me on alert. :)

 **Replies to Anon:**

Eriol: I apologize. I saw your review after I published the previous chapter. Thank you so much for your kind words!


	6. Water

**006\. Water**

 **The Sea Dog**

The scent of salt filled his nostrils. Amrothos took in a deep breath, and tilted his head backward, letting the wind play with his hair. With each breath he drew in, he felt more alive. The air blew through his thin white shirt and brown trousers. He turned towards his companions.

"Let loose the sails!" He shouted. The sailors hastened to obey his command, as eager as him to leave behind the city that harboured their birth and looked after them till they were full-grown men. But like Amrothos, their hearts were given to the Sea, which they sailed for years and yet did not learn all its secrets. This voyage will be small, only spanning the coastline for two weeks before turning home. But for now, Amrothos could leave behind his title and courtly matters and focus his attention to a task he enjoyed.

Once the ship was underway and nothing was in front of them except for the vast blue coloured Sea, Amrothos gave his attention to the tall, silent Elf who stood beside him. His Dwarf friend stood with Amrothos' second in command, learning the mechanics of the ship upon the Sea.

"I hope the Sea is to your liking." Amrothos called. Water drops sprayed on his exposed face and neck and he welcomed the feel of it. Ever since he sailed the first time, land became alien and strange to him.

"You love the Sea," Legolas noted. The Elf was pleasant company, with a warm smile on his face always. "It becomes you." The ship rocked over undulating waves and Amrothos adjusted his weight according to it, taking in each wave as if he were a part of it.

"I was born by the Sea, Master Elf." Amrothos said, commanding the helm with practiced ease. "It only makes sense to give my love to it."


	7. Wind

**007\. Wind**

 **The Wanderer**

The weather was too harsh.

The rainstorm was one of the worst he witnessed. Water poured down upon him as if someone unleashed one full bathtub after another. It was mixed with violent wind, swirling about him and snatching away his only source of warmth by soaking his cloak with water and ripping it away from his body to expose him to the elements. He hunched lower, his horse just as miserable as his master.

A nearby rise of land gave a hint of possible shelter and he led his horse there as quickly as he could over the grassy terrain that could be treacherous for the horse in the dark sky and lush greenery. The wind picked up, pushing the horse on its hind legs and raising its forelegs into the air. The wind howled and shrieked into his ears as if it were ready to bury him. It slapped against his cheeks, and for a brief moment he considered bowing down to the vicious weather. But he was born and bred to face diversity, and he was not the kind to admit defeat.

He pressed on, until at last he found the shelter in the form of a small cave. He dismounted and led his horse inside. He made his horse comfortable before retreating to the back of the cave which wasn't so far from the entrance.

He pulled back his hood with a sigh of relief and rested his head against the rough, harsh stone wall forming part of the cave. He was tired beyond belief and the weather made his journey harder than he realized.

Taking a deep breath, he launched into a song he knew would gladden his heart and it would chase the darkness of the storm away.

 _The leaves were long, the grass was green,_

 _The hemlock-umbels tall and fair,_

 _And in the glade a light was seen_

 _Of stars in shadow shimmering._

 _Tinuviel was dancing there_

With each word he uttered, the image of a beautiful Elf-lady with black hair decorated in ribbons and gems and garbed in rich clothes flashed in his mind and Aragorn's heart eased. The cold seemed to ebb and his eyes fluttered close from his sheer exhaustion. Just before he slept, his mind raced back to Rivendell, where hot food, warm bed and a welcoming foster family always waited him and he smiled.

* * *

 **Author's Note:**

Aragorn's song is the "Lay of Luthien", written by Tolkien. He was singing this song when he came upon Arwen for the first time.

Precisely 400 words! TAKE THAT, YOU PROMPT CHALLENGE! *dances around happily*

I apologize for the lack of replies. I am sorry. Right now, life has taken an unexpected turn and I am trying to hold on to the steering wheel. :)


	8. Hobby

**Author's Note:**

Birthday drabble to Pip the Dark Lord of All. Happy Birthday, Bite-Sized! XD

I know I am early by, like a month, but I hope you like it! I might not be around to be there on your real birthday, so I am posting it now. :D

Enjoy, everyone!

* * *

 **008\. Hobby**

 **The Dark Lord**

Legolas rubbed his temples wearily. Never, in all the years he spent as an Elf, did he expect to face a force as formidable as this. Sauron may have been defeated but he definitely spawned before he was crippled forever. And this evil spawn stood right in front of him.

Looking up, he took in the Hobbit child before him. Faramir Took was the splitting image of his father; short stature, pale skin, rosy cheeks, dark brown eyes, and curly brown hair. His innocent eyes brought the maternal traits in all women but his mischievous smile heralded danger. Added to the mix was the damned curiosity he inherited from his father.

"So," Legolas said faintly. "How did you manage to acquire the bird?"

A small sparrow was securely clasped between Faramir's hands, who gave a little chirp of acknowledgement.

"I plucked her from the tree. Her wing was hurt."

Legolas eyed the wing presented to him. Faramir, with his constant list of pranks and mischiefs, was gentle with animals. When he wasn't up to tricks, he would save kittens and pups from being drowned, and pathetic horses and mules from tyrannical masters.

"And you used the seamstresses' moveable stairs?"

"Yes."

"How did you manage to move something so heavy?"

"I brought the dogs from the kennels."

"Right." Legolas said, his voice steadily growing fainter. "The dogs. Those are vicious creatures. How did you take them?"

"I brought the meat from the pantry."

"Well, that explains what happened to my lunch. What then?"

"The dogs pushed the stairs down to the tree. I climbed up."

"What about the cat?"

"The cat? Oh. I chased the cat up the tree so that the sparrow would come down after getting a scare."

Legolas was beginning to think all animals living in his domain were allied to the Dark Lord.

"And then?"

"I took the bird and took it to the library."

"The dogs?"

"Oh, I left them in the garden."

"That will explain the destruction of the gardens from the dogs chasing the cat about. Then?"

"I didn't know how to treat the bird-"

"Has it ever occurred to you that the healers could have treated the bird?"

"But the healers can only treat Elves, Men, Hobbits and Dwarves." Faramir protested. Legolas nodded weakly, too stunned to argue with that logic.

"Alright, what happened then?"

"I placed the bird on the table and pulled out a book on birds."

"That will explain the ruining of precious scrolls with bird droppings," Legolas said. His voice had dropped to bare whisper. He could not bring it in his heart to be exasperated. Faramir's wide, innocent eyes didn't allow him.

"I had to bind her wing so I went up to the seamstresses and used a long ribbon. Father doesn't allow me near scissors and sharp objects."

"With good reason," Legolas breathed, remembering precisely what it was that brought about the rule. "That will explain the use of expensive Harad lace." Legolas buried his head in his hands and gave a low groan. Then he stopped, frowned and looked up. "And how do the cook's ruined pies come into this… incident?"

Faramir Took frowned, his small lips puckering up adorably and his cheeks filling out and becoming plumper.

"Oh… well, there is a song of baking birds into pies to be presented to the king. I just wanted to make sure there were none in the pies."

Legolas couldn't decide if he should scold the child, shake him for the havoc he caused, hug him for his tender heart, or touch his shoulder to make sure he was a Hobbit and a child instead of the Dark Lord reincarnated. So he did nothing and stared at the boy in stunned silence.


	9. Tradition

**009\. Tradition**

 **The Queen**

He was late.

The meeting went longer than he expected. Aragorn hurried across the hall as fast he could manage without breaking his composure. His footsteps vibrated through the throne room before he made his way out of the doorway with its high, wide doors thrown fully open.

The first gust of spring wind blew into his face, warm but not uncomfortable. It brought the promise of life and freedom from the excruciating winter cold. Aragorn's eyes fluttered close and he breathed in deeply.

The sound a familiar voice rising in song broke his reverie and he hurried the rest of the way towards the White Tree.

It was customary for the King and Queen of Gondor to sit below the White Tree when the flower buds appeared. Arwen sang every spring below the Tree until all of its flowers were in bloom. Aragorn never missed her songs, for they were dear to him. He found her there, dressed in green and her hair adorned with flowers.

He knelt before her and reverently clasped her hands in his own. Arwen smiled down at him, her voice never faltering. Above them, birds huddled on the branches and were silent to Arwen's song. Aragorn pressed his wife's hands against his lips in silent apology and love and she squeezed his in answer, forgiven, before tugging him to his feet and urging him to sit beside her. Not once did she break her song or stumble over her words. She rested her head against her husband's shoulder. Aragorn placed one arm about her shoulders and leaned back his head slightly to catch the warm sunlight.

With each rising note, Queen Arwen's voice seemed sweeter and with each falling note, another flower bloomed.

* * *

 **Author's Note:**

To the Guest reviewer, Lord Illyren, thank you so much for your review. :)

Again, I am sorry for not composing replies to my dear, dear reviewers. Time isn't precisely a friend at the moment. Let me tell you, I enjoy each and every review as they brighten up my day. :)


	10. Earth

**010\. Earth**

 **The Hero**

"My love?"

Faramir paused at the threshold of his bedroom, staring wide-eyed at the young woman brandishing a naked blade, fully dressed, and standing on the bed. Éowyn's eyes were large, furtive as she scanned the room. Faramir already noted the ruin of potted plants around the room, destroyed with earth spilling over the floor. They must have either suffered his wife's wrath or the threat Éowyn was wielding a sword against.

She seemed not to have heard him as she turned this way and that. Faramir's throat caught at the sight of firelight gleaming on the polished steel. To think his beloved brandished such a lethal weapon within their bedroom…

He swallowed, working his dry throat and licked his lips before trying again in measured calm tones used to calm a spooked animal.

"Is something amiss?" He asked quietly. Other than his voice, the only sound was the whistle of the blade cutting through the air.

"There's a rat in our bedroom." Éowyn said. She did not look at him, in spite of the fact that they hadn't seen each other for two weeks, nor that he came unexpected in the middle of the night where he dreamed of wifely welcome.

At the moment, none of those things occurred to him, since he was still trying to process that the woman he married, who slayed the Witch-king, was apparently afraid of rats.

He heard the sound of a body scuttling over the wood and he turned his head towards the toasty fireplace to see a small white body shoot out of the safety of a dressing table to made it towards the small bookshelf. Instincts took over before Faramir could stop himself. His fingers found his throwing knife hooked in his belt. He pulled it free, wound his arm backward and then smoothly launched the knife into the air. It twirled the first few spins before embedding itself into its target before it even reached safety. It fell with a dull thud on the floor. It shifted feebly before lying still, blood oozing from its wound. Éowyn finally descended from the bed and sheathed her sword with one smooth movement.

Blood, apparently, did not faze his beloved. But rats did.

"So," Faramir said, "A rat." He kept his voice neutral, pleasant but full of curiosity.

Éowyn drew herself to her full height, squared her shoulders and tipped her head back in the true visage of a daughter of kings. Faramir hid his smirk and longing at her reaction. She may have accepted him for her love and husband, but she did not break the steel within her or tempered it in anyway. It still resonated within her, deep and pure but at the same time she lowered her defences enough to let him through.

Still, she seemed reluctant to answer his unspoken question, but answered it, she did.

"I hated rats when I was a girl. I sometimes found them huddled in my clothes for warmth." Her jaw worked slightly, very much like a man's. "Also, Éomer was mischievous as a boy. He used to grab a rat around its middle and launch it at me whenever I was sitting nearby."

A tense silence followed and Faramir hoped with all his might that the smile he gave his wife was accommodating and understanding rather than the boyish laughter simmering just underneath the surface. They were still newlyweds, with only one year passing and a suspicion of a babe on the way.

But then as an afterthought, his bride added, "Welcome home, husband."

At last, Faramir couldn't restrain himself any longer. He tipped his head back, placed his fists over his hips and bellowed a true, ringing laugh.

* * *

 **Author's Note:**

-Inspired by a strong woman I know in my own life, capable of braving every storm, but utterly refusing to touch and come close to a household pest.

Lord Illyren: Thank you! I am so glad you enjoy them as much as I enjoy writing them! :)


	11. Breaking the Habit

**Author's Note:**

A bit tongue in cheek... regarding an account of a friend who will immediately recognize what this meant to be. :P

* * *

 **011\. Breaking the Habit**

 **The Father**

Aragorn's armoury contained a vast array of beautifully forged and practical weaponry. It was a small square room with one pillar in the middle and weapon stands decorating walls. Some of the swords were won in battles. Others were given to him as gifts, like the dual scimitars resting on velvet cloth in its own case lying on a flat table. The rest he commissioned himself, like the bow from Lórien, and the warhammer from Dwarves of Iron Hills.

He ambled around the room, like a lion in his familiar surroundings before turning towards the man standing opposite to him. The man was handsome, young, and muscled from his duty as a Knight. Aragorn admired the fact that the man, while very pale from what Aragorn was wordlessly suggesting, managed to keep some of his composure.

"I usually have guards accompanying me and accepting my every order, but I am more than capable of doing my own work," Aragorn said conversationally. He picked up a dagger. It was weighted just right; he could throw it with exceptional results. "That means I can defend myself and those whom I love." The man stiffly nodded, looking like an insect caught in a spider's web.

With one fluid motion, Aragorn drew his hand back and threw the dagger. It spun in the air before embedding into the door of the armoury… missing newly arrived Legolas by an inch.

The Elf glowered at him.

"But my chances in running into renegades and outlaws are marginally slim." Aragorn continued, ignoring his Elven company. Instead, he fixated his gaze on the man before him. He looked downright intimidated but adamant. So… he could be a suitable husband for his daughter. "Usually we show what criminals we have to our lowermost dungeons." The man's cheek twitched. "The time they spend with inquisitors make them reasonably tame."

Legolas narrowed his eyes at Aragorn before turning his attention to the man and telling him Prince Amrothos had a need of him. The man all but fled. Then Legolas rounded on Aragorn and stared him down as a father would an errant child.

"Stop it," Legolas said. Aragorn blinked. To think his friend Legolas _actually_ sounded _stern._ "You will make a habit of this and you have many daughters. Frightening off suitors for the first few will ruin the chances of marriage for the rest."

"I was just showing him my armoury." Aragorn protested. But Legolas snorted and turned away, meaning to leave.

"I am a father, it's a born instinct!" Aragorn called after him.

"Well, it's a wonder then why Elrond didn't castrate you when he could!"


	12. Betrayal

**012\. Betrayal**

 **The Decision**

The acrid scent of wood burning filled his nostrils. It burned a path from his nostrils, throat and filled his lungs. He coughed. His head grew heavy, and he swayed. He crashed against the trunk, and leaned against it for support. Tears welled up in his eyes from the ash falling from the sky.

His entire world, full of green and life, turned into a nightmare of ash, smoke and fire.

He raised his horror-filled eyes and found the fire devouring wood like a hungry wolf does a sheep.

"THRANDUIL!"

He paid the cry no heed. With clenched teeth, he took one purposive step, and then another. And another. But his body felt like lead. His armour never felt so heavy.

"THRANDUIL, ENOUGH!"

The tree beside him gave a loud groan and fell before him with a thundering crash of burning mass. Thranduil's heart broke in further shards. His forest… his beloved forest…

A hand clasped his shoulder and he shook it back roughly.

"We need to put out the fire." Thranduil said. His voice came out in a croak. His throat was parched and scratchy. He raised one hand and clutched his throat in a claw-like gesture.

The hand returned and this time Thranduil was yanked back from the blazing fire and turned around. He faced an Elven face twisted in the shadows, pulled in fury and compassion.

"This part of the forest is lost!" Thorontur shouted. Thranduil leaned forward, letting his weary body take support and comfort from his advisor. Thorontur pulled him close in a rough embrace. Another gust of wind spread the fire further than ever and Thranduil grimaced in pain as numerous trees shrieked in agony. Tears fell from Thranduil's eyes, dampening Thorontur's cloak.

"We have to go," Thorontur whispered in the king's ear. It jerked Thranduil awake, as if lightning passed through his body. Thranduil pulled back. His legs shook under the weight of his body, too weary to support his weight on its own. In that irrational moment, he cursed his body for failing him so suddenly. He cursed his eternal youth that had its limits. He cursed his trembling hands that were too weak to hold a sword or carry a wounded soldier to safety.

"You are tired!" Thorontur bellowed, shaking the royal with his fingers clutching his shoulders. Thranduil gripped on to his advisor's armour, feeling the hard metal digging into his palms. "Thranduil, we have to go! We have to regroup!"

This time when Thorontur dragged him away from the burning trees, Thranduil complied without resistance. The advisor pulled him to safety. Thranduil's lungs cleared as he stepped away from the toxic, enflamed land. As he retreated, he spared a look behind Thorontur's shoulder.

His sanctum turned from green, brown and gold to an inferno of red, black and grey.

* * *

 **Author's Note:**

I am back. Flu and bouts of fever can make you sit still. :P But it also makes you really bored and so here I am, writing and posting. XD


	13. Rebellion

**013\. Rebellion**

 **The Dessert**

They prowled in the darkness with softly padded feet. The tiled floor was cool under the soles of their feet. One of them, obviously the leader, stopped them with a hand. They waited breathlessly, huddled in the shadows.

Their prey whistled a merry tune as he poured boiling hot water in two cups. The scent of chamomile wafted in the air. Then they heard the distinct _pop_ of a tight ceramic lid lifted from its pot. The leader waved. It was time.

"Attack!"

The Hobbit-children jumped out of the darkness and pounced on the startled Hobbit. Pippin laughed as a girl clambered on his back while the rest of them attacked his legs.

"What is this?" Pippin exclaimed, wrestling with a boy barely quarter his height.

"Give us Auntie Rose's biscuits!" One of them demanded.

"Give it to us! Give it to us!" They chorused.

"Or else!" Faramir, Pippin's eldest son and leader of the renegades, piped.

"Merry!" Pippin cried. "I am under attack! Mutiny! Rebellion! Treachery! Betrayal! Ack!"

When Merry finally entered the kitchen, Pippin lay on his back, his sons and daughters calmly sitting on his chest and limbs, happily munching on honey biscuits.

* * *

 **Author's Note:**

Like I said, it's fun updating when you are so busy with projects, assignments, papers and exams. :P :P


	14. What Happens Now?

**014\. What Happens Now?**

 **The Gardener**

"Well, Mister Frodo," Sam said. "It's finally finished, I daresay! Now, all we have to look forward to is a cup of good tea and seed biscuits to go with them!"

Frodo stood beside him, dressed in light brown trouser, a white shirt and a red coloured waistcoat on top. He smiled at Sam, his eyes twinkling lightly.

"Why, Sam! Are you bored already of coming home? I thought you might be happy to see your old Gaffer!"

"Oh, begging your pardon, Mister Frodo, I don't mean that!" Sam protested. They stood side by side on a rising knoll, facing the expanse of the Shire as far as their eyes could see. "I am happy to be home. Who doesn't love a good bath, a warm bed and a comfortable kitchen to make dinner in? But I miss the excitement, would you know. It's just," Sam searched for the words to say, "I am not quite sure what I am to do." Frodo nodded in understanding.

"Well, then," Frodo said reasonably. "I am sure there is something for you to do." The marketplace was closest to them. They watched the Hobbits run about their business. Giant pumpkins lined a stall for sale. The children rolled iron circles on their edges, their wooden sticks pushing them on. A hobbit-child snuck a biscuit in his mouth.

"I still have the seeds Lady Galadriel gave me." Sam said suddenly. "The Shire took some burning because of that dratted Saruman and his lackeys. That tree is still torn down, under which Mister Bilbo gave his final farewell. I suspect the Shire needs more trees." Frodo laughed.

"I don't think the Shire would mind a little gardening," Frodo said happily. He placed his hand on Sam's shoulder and squeezed it. "Besides, I had my share of fire and foe, Sam! I wouldn't mind a little life and green."


	15. Retaliation

**015\. Retaliation**

 **The High King**

Beautiful; Gil-Galad never thought any male was capable of such description. That was until he looked upon the Maia, Annatar. He was perfect in his appearance, his fair skin, refined facial features, black flowing hair and muscled body of a smith. His crimson robes reminded Gil-Galad uncomfortably of spilled, blackening blood, and the golden thread trimming his sleeves and neckline reminded him of Annatar's wealth and resources. It was dangerous if he ever turned against them.

No one was this perfect. No one possessed this power.

Annatar lounged casually in Gil-Galad's throne; his legs crossed one over the other. A coin flipped between his knuckles. Gil-Galad glimpsed his profile stamped on one side, until it disappeared when the coin passed to the next knuckle.

"You have certainly made yourself comfortable." Gil-Galad said.

"It suits me." Annatar's free hand luxuriously traced the ornate armrest. A chill of fear licked Gil-Galad's spine.

"You are overstepping your boundaries, Annatar." Gil-Galad's voice was strong and hard. Annatar raised a brow.

"I am well within my boundaries, Gil-Galad." Annatar's coin continued to flip over his knuckles. "Have you ever considered what would happen to your kingdom should you die, Gil-Galad? Have you named an heir?"

Fury flared within Gil-Galad. But before he even reacted, Annatar left the throne in a whirl of robes. He appeared in front of Gil-Galad suddenly, clasped his throat and pushed him back to a wall. The coin fell on the ground with a sharp ring.

"I don't like confrontation," Annatar breathed in his ear. Gil-Galad clenched his teeth and fought to keep his fear contained. He let the Elf go and Gil-Galad slid away from him, his back still pressed against the wall. "You would do well to remember it… in the future."

Annatar released him and stepped back. He bowed his head in mocking respect and left. Gil-Galad watched him go. He didn't relax until Annatar was gone. He took in a deep breath and picked the coin. The side of the coin which bore his profile fell on the ground, trampled and dirty.

Gil-Galad's hand ghosted over his own throat and wondered what it was like if the Lord ever tried to kill him.

He shivered in the cold room.


	16. Count Down

**016\. Count Down**

 **The Archer**

Legolas knew he was going through his arrows fast.

Ten.

He took down a charging Warg. The arrow penetrated in its right. It stumbled on its own legs and tumbled past him. His cloak rustled as the Warg whizzed past him.

Nine.

His target this time was an Orc. He looked at it in dismay. It was a waste of an arrow. But at least it was another enemy that travelled to the Void.

Eight.

The Nazgul shrieked above him. Black soil churned around his legs by all the mayhem of a battlefield. His target was a charging troll with a heavy club raised high above its head. It would have caught both Aragorn and Éomer at unawares and killed them in one stroke. The arrow pierced its eye. He loosened another arrow and shot its other eye. The troll stumbled and disappeared under the chaos of clashing swords and splintering shields.

Six.

Pippin briefly appeared among the warring armies, barely tall enough to reach an Orc's waist. The Orcs converged around him and Pippin disappeared. Legolas gave a cry and loosened another arrow. He killed on Orc, but it was in vain. Another took its place. The stench of death began to fill his nose and mouth. The air was hot and heavy.

Five.

His keen eye and faithful bow would be nothing without arrows. Exhaustion threatened to overwhelm him. He did not know how long he was fighting, but there was leaden feeling in his limbs. His arrow caught an Orc captain in the knee, and a Rohir finished him off.

Four.

The ground shook violently and he lost his balance. The air grew blisteringly hot. The black shrouded sky turned red and gold and the stars reappeared. The shrieks of Nazgul were full of agony and pain. The Enemy forces scrambled in confusion. He looked up.

Mount Doom, the only volcano that never slept, burst into flame and smoke. The Eye of Sauron began to fade and its tower began to crumble. A unified shout went up.

"VICTORY!"


End file.
